Not A Care In The World
by prosfan
Summary: Lewis visits James after an accident. Angsty and stuff but not as bad as previous fics.  Not Slash. Now Complete
1. 4 Speeches

_Authors Note: This will have three parts. I was going for the Star Wars vibe, telling it out of order. I'll leave it up to you to decide if that works :/ Hope you like it._

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><p>"Got him Sergeant. We got him. Don't tell anyone but Hooper gave him a sly kick when no-one was looking. Well, I was looking, but I didn't see it. At least not if anyone asks. Despite all the ribbing, I think Hooper actually likes you, y'know? I know...mad innit? Anyway, gotta go. Paperwork and all that."<p>

Nothing

"He pleaded guilty Hathaway. The judge gave him 10 years for murder and attempted murder. He's going to be gone away for a long time son. Nothing to worry about. Not that you are of course. Lucky bugger, haven't got a care in the world at the moment have you?"

Nothing

"Laura sends her love by the way James. She says she owes you a pizza, homemade no less. When you get back that is. And I probably owe you a pint or five. So remember that eh lad? You're coming out with me and Laura for a pint and a pizza soon. No wriggling out of it either, you're coming and that's that. We'll drag you if we have to. Although I've never known you to refuse pizza...or beer come to think of it. Just remember eh?"

Nothing

"Jim, we still owe you that meal. I know you're nearly back with us. Innocent's been asking after you. Favouritism I call it lad. Nah, that's not fair I suppose. Laura's been asking and all. Look I'm stuck on our latest case, I need a hand kidda. Hooper just isn't cutting it. He's a nice enough bloke James, but he just isn't you. He doesn't think like you and he certainly doesn't get my mind into gear like you do. Do us a favour an come back lad. Please? What's keeping you there anyway? I know this is getting through to you Sergeant, don't pretend like it isn't. Just get your arse back here Jim."

Nothing.

There hadn't been anything for the last seven days. Robbie wasn't sure why he kept talking, it just seemed like the right thing to do. He sighed, casting one more glance over the hospital bed, at the comatose form lying on it. Closing his eyes, he did something he hadn't for 10 years. He prayed.

Devotions finished, he clapped his unconscious sergeants shoulder;

"Miss you kidda"

He left the room, not able to look back, eyes shimmering.


	2. Mickey Finn

The suspect was one Mickey Finn. This was an alias, his real name was Michael Finlay. Not a very imaginative deception sure, but he wasn't a very imaginative man. His murders weren't well thought out, they weren't planned in advance. It was only by brute force that he managed to kill anyone at all. Eventually forensic evidence caught up with him and Oxfordshire police knew who they were looking for. A mug shot was circulated around, tacked onto lampposts and in shop windows. "Have you seen this man? If seen, please report to the local police station. Do not approach."

Like it had been said, Mickey Finn was not an imaginative man. Upon seeing the posters, he shaved off his moustache and took to wearing a hat. He considered this a good enough disguise.

Thankfully, the majority of Joe Public, aren't that easily fooled. A call came in to Kidlington HQ and Lewis and Hathaway were more than happy to go and apprehend Mr Finn. His crimes had been heinous and the young sergeant had made it his personal mission to bring the man to justice. Lewis wasn't going to dampen James' enthusiasm so he offered his sergeant a short word of warning as they climbed into the car.

"Watch yourself Hathaway. Finn isn't without friends. He knows some very nasty people" James was just about to answer, when he spotted the man in question walking down the street a little a head of him.

"There he is sir! Pull in next to him." Lewis did as instructed as James wound the window down, sticking his head out the window.

"Mr Finn?"

At the mention of his name, Mickey bolted. James was out the door and after him, before Lewis had even got his seatbelt off. Scrambling out of the car, Lewis shut the car door and saw James canon around the corner.

Panting slightly, Lewis rounded the corner. He'd caught up to the two men a little and could see James gaining on Finn. Finn looked around with a wild look in his eyes as he saw James coming within reach.

Then Lewis saw movement out of his peripheral vision. A grey blur shot out of a side street at the same time that James careened across the road after Finn. He started to shout a warning and James twisted his head to see what Lewis was shouting about.

Lewis could only watch in horror as the grey Golf slammed into his sergeant's side and threw him over the bonnet.

Robbie was already on the phone, calling an ambulance, before he knew he was doing it. Then he called the station and told them to get after Finn, who had seen what had happened and just kept running. The golf had driven on and Lewis would later kick himself when he realised that he hadn't got the number plate.

Finally reaching the sergeant, lying prostrate on the ground, Lewis stopped. He crouched down to the younger man, taking in the blood trickling from the gash on the side of his head. James' eyelids flickered and Robbie stretched a hand out to move Hathaway's head. Just in time, Lewis remembered that you shouldn't move someone who might have a spinal injury.

"James?" No answer. Looking at the still, ashen form lying on the road, he wasn't surprised.

"Ah Jim, why couldn't you have just kept running?"

James' eyes stopped flickering and Robbie suddenly panicked, worried by the now total lack of movement from the younger man.

Thankfully, the ambulance arrived in that moment and whisked the injured sergeant and his worried inspector away towards the John Radcliff.

His panic only increased as the doctors started to fill him in on James' condition.Most of the jargon they used was lost on him. One word wasn't though.

_Comatose._

It sent a chill through him and he struggled to understand the rest of the conversation.

Ten minutes later he settled down for the wait. He didn't know how long it would take, but James would wake up.

He had to.


	3. Recovery

_Authors note: The last part...I assure you, I did do some research for this. Unfortunately, most of the research suggested that is it very, very rare, for a patient in a coma to make a full and complete recovery. As much as I want my stories to be realistic, I couldn't bear to injure James to the point where he'd have to give up work, and rely on others for the rest of his life. So although I have done research, I'd like to point out that this in no way is written by a medical professional or someone who knows anything about care of coma patients (And I fervently hope that I, nor anyone who reads this ever has to find out). And although the out come seems to be the one that is least likely to happen, I hope you still enjoy it._

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><p>It'd become a routine. Surprisingly quickly actually. Get Up. Eat. Go to work. Finish work. Go to the hospital. Talk nonsense to the oblivious Hathaway, until even his overtired brain recognises it as nonsense. Go home. Eat, maybe. Drink, almost definitely. Sleep. Repeat as necessary.<p>

He's sat there again. That hospital room. He's not talking this time. He can't think of anything more to say. Lewis distractedly thinks that he could probably remember every single mark on the wall, every single scuff mark on the floor. Each mark tells its own story. Another person admitted to Intensive Care. Another person waiting anxiously for news of their father, mother, brother...colleague...friend. He tries to stop thinking about _his _colleague, _his_ friend. It fails, the reminder of the situation is lying right in front of him. He sighs, once again he is sat in a hospital room, desperately trying not to think about why he's there, but unwilling to leave.

There something about these places that turns even the most optimistic person, completely maudlin. And Robbie is fully aware that he is not the most optimistic person. He was once upon a time. He was once a much more cheerful young man. He lost most of his capacity to be cheerful the day that he lost his wife. Its changed now. He feels happier (some days) and work is good. Its been ten years and he can talk about Morse now. Val's still touchy, unless its with the right person (or his kids, he never wanted them to be afraid to mention their mother). Hathaway is the right person. So is Laura. Its never really come up with Innocent but he has a sneaky suspicion that Jean Innocent is the right person as well. She'd get a rock to talk. He doesn't mean that maliciously, its a good quality to have as a Superintendent. Strange didn't have it. Lewis had always been nervous about talking to Strange. Innocent? Well he was a little, but only when she was angry at him. Or James. Although it was normally both of them that she was angry at.

He turns to look at the young sergeant. Lewis supposes that, at thirty three years old, James isn't really young. Not in the sense that Lewis views him as. He's naïve and way too easily hurt. But then on the other hand, he is just over half Lewis' age. And even if that doesn't make James young, it makes Robbie feel incredibly old.

He can't help it. His eyes are drawn to the gash on the side of James' head. The closely cropped hair means that it is all-too-visible. It looks deep, and sore. Lewis is glad of one thing; at least in a coma, James isn't in pain. He got off quite lightly though. Apart from the head wound, and the obligatory bruises and scrapes, he only has a badly bruised left shoulder and two broken ribs. Its gonna hurt when..._if_...he wakes up, but it could have been so much worse. He could have had a broken pelvis, a torn spleen, a fractured skull. Robbie knows he should be thankful that the injuries don't seem too severe. But that's hard to swallow when he hasn't seen James move for 8 days. If his injuries aren't all that dangerous, then why is he still unconscious?

A nasty little voice at the back of his mind mumbles all the things that he knows the doctors haven't said.

Traumatic Brain Injury, Persistent Vegetative State, Brain Death.

No one has actually said any of this to him, but Lewis knows about comas. He knows more than most. He knows that James may never wake up again. He also knows that Hathaway could wake up and be unable to look after himself, unable to walk or speak, unable to function independently. Robbie doesn't know which will be worse. He holds on to the fact that the doctors haven't mentioned any thing like that yet.

Panic mounting steadily, he puts an hand on James arm; if only to feel a living presence there, to reassure him self that the stone still body was still alive.

It was then that he noticed that Hathaway's eyes were open. The doctors had explained this to him. Sleep wake cycles. The eyes were open but unfocused. And they were closed a lot more than they were open.

Lewis didn't dare hope. He'd learned the hard way that hope only hurt you in the end. He'd hoped for Morse and he'd hoped for Val. Hadn't made a blind bit of bloody difference. He didn't want to curse James in the same way.

Coma patients don't just wake up like they do on the television. Throughout the next few days James improved slowly. The wake cycles became longer, James started moving his arms and legs a little. Still Lewis did not hope. Then he started to make small moaning sounds, they were quite disconcerting and Lewis did his best to talk to James over them.

The second day of waking up, saw James making purposeful movements. Unfortunately, these were characterised by the young man trying to pull his IV lines out. All the talking in the world couldn't persuade the sergeant that this was a bad idea. All Robbie could to was to grab his hand before he could manage it and get hold of a doctor quickly if he failed. He lost count of the times he fell asleep over those 9 days. He'd stay awake, talking for as long as he could before sleep overcame him.

.

Lewis opened his eyes blearily. Once he managed to focus, he suddenly realised another pair or blue eyes were staring straight at him.

"Hathaway?" Getting no response, Lewis tried again.

"James? Do you...D'you recognise me lad?" He waited with baited breath as James blinked, and then slowly moved his head up and down.

"...is."A small cough, a wince, and the sergeant made another attempt.

"L'wis" Robbie smiled at him, relief evident on his features.

"Aye, you'll do Jim. Do you remember what happened?" A frown creased James' forehead. Lewis could see that it was taking the younger man longer to process things that normal. It was also evident that he was having trouble speaking. The doctors had however, assured Lewis that this was normal. It would correct itself and James would be right as rain in a few weeks.

"N-not 'eally. Fin? " James expression cleared a little and he tried to sit up, a pained gasp ripping itself from his throat as he put weight on his shoulder and stretched the area around his damaged ribs.

"'ir...Finn sir? Argh what?..." he added has he fell back onto the pillows.

"We got him in the end James. Don't you worry about it. As for that" he said, indicating the offending limb, "You were lucky lad, bruised shoulder and a few busted ribs." James moves his hands slowly to try and touch his torso, and Lewis gently stops him.

"Not a good idea laddie"

James is starting to feel sleepy and Lewis can see him drifting. He looks over Hathaway again, grateful that he's looking at the man alive, he knows how easily it could have gone the other way. "Could have been so much worse", he mumbles, unsure who he is addressing. James turns to look at him and he realises that although Hathaway hasn't actually fully understood what he just said, there must have been enough emotion in it to make him take notice. Suddenly feeling more business like he stands up. Things need to be addressed, he is a copper after all.

"James I have to ask you a question ok?" He gets a slight nod and continues;

"Did you see the driver of the car." He watched James think. There's no controlled blankness, no deadpan expression, no inscrutability. Disarmed like this, all his thoughts on show for the world to see, Hathaway seems a lot younger than he normally does.

"wha...wha car? 'ust 'member Finn...then...s'blank. Sorry 'ir" Lewis smiles encouragingly, seeing the frustration clearly visible on the younger man's face. Its a good thing that the frustration is there, he supposes. This means that James is aware that there's something wrong, even if he can't articulate it properly. Robbie would have worried if James hadn't noticed the trouble he was having speaking.

"Its fine. Now rest son. Honestly James, you'll be better soon." James nods and closes his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing has settled into a rhythm and his face has relaxed into sleep.

"Good lad"

.

A few week later and his sergeant has very much improved. He's walking and talking and nearly ready to go home. He still doesn't remember what happened, and Robbie has refused to tell him anything until he is out of hospital.

"Sir, its been driving me mad. Do you not know what its like to have half-memories floating about your mind?" Lewis though back to five years ago. Memories lost in a drunken haze, fuzzy visions dancing throughout his consciousness.

"Aye, I know the feeling Jim. But, look lad, you're doing well, better than expected recovery wise..."

And he was. The younger man had recovered quicker than the doctors had thought he would. There had been one moment of panic when James'd had a seizure, but the doctors had determined that it would not re-occur. That was weeks behind them now anyway. Lewis was reluctant to bring painful memories to the surface while James was still making progress, and he told the sergeant as much.

"We'll get you home next week, and talk it through over a pint. I promise." James, seeing the sense in the older man's words, had merely mumbled petulantly in reply;

"Not allowed a pint, sir. Painkillers"

"Orange juice then." Lewis grinned at the scowl he got from Hathaway. He got up to leave, turning back around to look at James as he got to the door.

"I might not be able to get here for a few days lad, nasty case on at the moment. Don't forget to get them to call me when they decide when they're letting you out eh? I'll come and pick you up."

"Ok, cheers sir."

.

Five days later, and Robbie let himself into his apartment, a weight lifted from his shoulders. He had just returned from dropping James of at his flat. He smiled fondly, glad hat Hathaway was back to his normal self. Well, almost, the lad was still dealing with two broken ribs. Lewis knew that James was trying to hide his discomfort, but he'd been watching the lad carefully, mindful that his friend had only been out of a coma for a month. He'd been assured by various medical personnel that any sort of relapse was very unlikely but Robbie should still keep an eye on him. Head injuries could initiate a whole host of side effects; depression, forgetfulness and personality changes not being the least dangerous. But James was ok as far as Lewis could tell. Not that this really meant anything. Robbie was fully aware that he could never really _tell_ anything about James that the younger man didn't want him to know.

He sighed, no real annoyance in it, as he got up to get a microwave meal out of his fridge. He'd told James that he would be back in about an hour. He had figured that James hadn't been back to his flat for just over a month and he'd appreciate some time alone there before they had the conversation that James had been so eager for, back in the hospital. The flat was clean and tidy (Lewis and Laura had seen to that while he'd been in hospital), but still, Lewis thought that James would want time to get reacquainted with his dwelling and possessions.

So, he ate his meal, grabbed a few beers from the fridge (James had assured him that he'd be ok watching Lewis drink beer while he was limited to orange juice) and got into his car. Along the drive, he pondered on how he was going to explain what had happened to his young sergeant. There were two problems he was facing. One, he wasn't sure how James would react, memories resurfacing and all. He didn't know whether James would suddenly remember and then those memories could cause him to panic or something. The second problem was himself. Robbie had no illusions that he had deliberately not thought about what had happened while James had been hospitalized. As traumatic as it was for James, he'd spent the next week unconscious. Lewis had been painfully aware of what was going on and he'd had to deal with it. The immediate panic when he'd seen the Golf strike his sergeant's side. The chronic worry, waiting for James to wake up. And now, the anxiousness on how to tell his sergeant the events that had led to him being comatose.

He pulled up at Hathaway's house and took a deep breath as he made his way to the front door, beers balanced in one arm, and two cartons of orange juice in the other. After all, he reasoned to himself, if James had to be drinking juice, it was all Lewis could do to buy him some.

.

Half an hour into his visit and James broached the subject with him.

"Sir...You said, once I was home and all, you said you'd tell me what happened."

"You really want to know James? You're sure?"

"Yes sir. I...There's just nothing, I keep trying to remember, but...well it's just blank. Its disconcerting. Last time I had a black out like this, was the end of 6th form...I think I had to have my stomach pumped..." Lewis grinned, it was rare he got insights into his sergeant past, and even insignificant things like this were considered a treat. And there was something inescapably amusing about the idea of a drunk, eighteen year old James.

"Fair enough Jim, what was the last thing you remember?" James frowned, sipping his juice. It was painful to watch him struggle to find the memories he was looking for. Robbie was just about to tell him they should leave it for a while, when Hathaway spoke.

"Remember you giving me a warning. Something about Finn having friends. Nasty ones."

"Aye. I didn't want to put you off your obvious enthusiasm, but I didn't want you rushing head long into an ambush or something."

"Then what happened?"

"You saw Finn up a head and we pulled in and you challenged him. Well it happened pretty fast mate, you were almost around the corner before I'd got out of the car" James smiled cheekily.

"Ah well its these legs sir, long stride I've got." Lewis snorted in amusement.

"Yeah well, you went after him and then I caught up and then...then." Lewis faltered, this was the first time he'd truly thought about the accident and he was remembering more that he wanted to.

"Sir?...Sir are you okay?" Robbie snapped out of his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah I just-"

"You must be tired sir. It seemed like every time I was awake, well, awake and alert anyway, you were there...I...I appreciate it sir."

"No problem James, its my bloody fault anyway."

"No really sir I...what?" James asked, confused at the sad look on the inspector's face. Lewis sighed.

"You were running across the road and I saw a blur come out of the side street. I shouted to you and you turned around to have a look at why. You...you slowed down a little and the c-car hit ye."

"I fail to see how that's your fault sir...with all due respect."

"Away man, if I hadn't have shouted, you'd have just kept going!"

"Maybe. Or maybe, I'd just have been hit anyway. Only I'd not have even had that 5 second warning."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah" James answered, a little taken aback that it was _him_ being the voice of reason this time. "Don't blame yourself for this. It wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's fault sir, it was the idiot driving the car."

"Ah yeah...I didn't even get the number...I mean you looked... looked like you were..." he trailed off again, unwilling to admit that he'd been terrified that James was dead, too worried to think about looking up.

"Don't worry about it sir. There'll be CCTV footage or a witness or something. It was probably one of Finn's cronies, he'll rat them out to save himself, like as not."

"Suppose you're right Jim." Lewis grinned resignedly, "you normally bloody are."

"Yeah well, its all those cereal packets I read isn't it?" Lewis laughed and pretended not to notice that Hathaway's answering grin looked a little forced. But a small grimace from the younger man and Robbie decided that he'd have to step in.

"Headache James?"

"Actually yes sir. Bloody bad one. They never show this bit on TV do they, the after effects of it all?

"That they don't" Lewis agreed sadly, wishing that the sergeant could just be alright.

"Have you got those painkillers the hospital gave you?" James nodded grimacing again as his head jarred.

"Well take one." He saw James stare longingly at his jacket and the small box containing 12 nicotine fixes, therein. Lewis shook his head. "That won't help either, ye daft bugger! Go on lad, off to bed with ye. I'll see myself out." Smiling tiredly, James went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. Once he'd taken the medication, he mumbled his goodnight to Lewis and slowly made his way up the stairs to his bed.

Upon hearing the click of a light switch, Lewis left James' house, satisfied that the younger man would be ok until the morning.

.

It took a little while longer for James to go back to work, and longer still for the headaches to ease off and for him to be back to his normal self But back at work he was and he was inordinately happy about it.

Lewis hadn't realised exactly how much, he had missed the other man's banter and wit over the last two months. Granted, James had only been in a coma for a week; but in between the headaches and broken ribs, and that one terrifying seizure, the man had hardly been jovial. Not that Lewis could blame him, it'd been one hell of an eight weeks for Hathaway.

But he was much more like himself now, Lewis had to concede. And Robbie was glad of it. James was always a worry when he was quiet or moody. And he had been getting extremely frustrated at the hospital. Frustrated with his memory, frustrated with the headaches and frustrated with his speech problems. But some gentle lecturing and encouragement from his inspector, and he'd made an excellent recovery. The doctors were very happy and Lewis was very grateful. He knew that it was normally very unlikely for a coma patient to make a full recovery. He'd been assured, both by James and the doctors, that Hathaway had indeed made a complete recovery.

Which was just as well, as Innocent had ordered them onto a pretty tough murder case almost as soon as James had been back. That wasn't really fair, she had asked both of them about it first. Lewis if he thought Hathaway was going to be ok, and then James after Lewis had told her that only James knew if James would be ok. The sergeant had assured her that he would be, and then assured an anxious Lewis that he'd say something if he wasn't.

And then they'd done what they normally did, went to the pub. Lewis got the first round in, not commenting when James only asked for a shandy. He did comment however, when James came back from buying his round with another shandy and a glass of scotch.

"James?"

"Its a thank you sir. You know, like a peace offering."

"I wasn't aware there had been a war Jim."

"Well...no, but it was the only analogy I could think of."

"You, unable to think of an analogy, are you sure you're alright?" Lewis had teased.

"Ok. Think of it more like a spoil of war. The war being against the coma..." James stopped mid sentence and looked up meeting his bosses eyes.

"What I'm trying to say is...Thank you sir. I don't think I'd have got better so quickly if you hadn't been there, nagging me into it."

"Nagging you into it? Well that's a back handed compliment if I ever heard one. But its no problem James. I'd say that you can do the same for me one day but..."

"You don't particularly want to end up in a coma after being hit by a car."

"Blunt aren't you?"

"Yeah well, I've stopped sleeping in the knife-box."

"Cocky sod. Anyway, you may only be drinking shandy but...cheers."

The two coppers clinked their glasses together and sat back, one marvelling at medical science and its ability to cure the most desperate looking problems. The other simply marvelling at the fact that he was alive.


End file.
